


So this is what the tabletop looks like?!

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fluff, LLF Comment Project, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12641004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: Paperwork was what every soldier hated. East, South, West or Central. Not even the North was an exception.





	So this is what the tabletop looks like?!

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest Anon,  
> You let me choose between Buccaneer and Miles and honestly: I couldn’t!  
> So why not both? Have a fic with the established OT3 Olivier/Miles/Buccaneer, in a warm and fluffy story.  
> And honey, should this not float your boat, feel free to send in a new prompt! I force you all to endure my whims way too often, so I need to be whistled back at times^^
> 
> To all the others: I hope you like it and if you did, please drop me a line :D

There were peaceful nights at the northernmost military posting Amestris offered, though they were few and far in between.

Times when the noise died down to the occasional sound of someone slipping on ice, or laughter coming from one of the barracks. Sometimes the harsh rumble of weapons meeting could be heard faintly, when one stood in the right place at the right time, or the heathy smack of a body hitting the mat in the gym. The only things one heard often, and only when standing very close, was someone sighing over paper work.

This day General Armstrong herself, slaving over stacks of paper for hours by now, no end in sight.

Night had fallen long ago, the stacks had neither halved, nor lost even a quarter of their height. Her eyes had grown small, her usually impeccable handwriting, loopy and elegant, deteriorated to a scrawl. Yet she worked on, not because she desperately wanted to, but because there was an opening now. Drachma had not attacked, no patrol had found anything suspicious and while that meant that there would soon be a new conflict, it also meant that there would be a bit of time until that happened.

Time, she could use to catch up on the paperwork Central insisted on, bullets flying only 100 metres further north or not.

Miles knew better than most that she had to push the paper to the side these last few weeks, still had wounds she was recovering from. He and Buccaneer had fallen asleep without her, had hoped to gift her some warmth, to see the bruises on her body turn brighter, just to make sure that she was healing, getting none of that, noticing too late that she’d fallen asleep on top of her desk for the third time in a row now.

When Buccaneer had found and woken her up in the morning, her back had popped several times and she’d made a face. Wounds were smarting, the awkward position she’d slept in not helping the matter and as a new day had already started, so did her fight with the paper.

They’d been dead-set on keeping her from falling asleep in her bureau again tonight and entered said room separately, after night fell.

He’d taken over the guard-rosters and reports throughout the day. Read them through, gave them back if corrections were needed and ordered any soldier that needed something from the queen that could wait a few more days, to do just that.

Buccaneer took over the training duties she usually attended to, also inspected barracks and every single department the Wall offered. Got the supply-lists from each, combined them and got them ready for one last read-through by Olivier, so they could be send to Central Command soon.

It was him too, that entered her bureau first, with a fresh batch of strong coffee and a cup of her favourite tea, so she could wash away the formers hideous taste. Night had already fallen then, their own duties keeping them away for the whole day, having learned from several of their soldiers that the General had not left her rooms once since morning. That the doc was fuming, because she’d missed a check-up apparently.

When Miles joined them, well over an hour later, the room was still felt with the noise of strong-willed scribbling, now in stereo. They didn’t even look up, until he set down the covered plates at the small conference table, lifting one lid and letting the smell waft through the room.

The food at Briggs wasn’t the best, not even close to, but to the righteous hungry it tasted heavenly. It was Buccaneer first that threw down his pencil, groaning tiredly.

“Please tell me we can take a break Olivier!?”

His stomach growling loudly, accentuating his words. The woman mentioned looking up only for a short moment, before forcing her eyes onto the paper again. Her voice was croaky by now, from being used too little or because of fatigue he couldn’t say.

“I need to finish this shit, you go eat.”

Not even trying to sound forceful, or stern, not even irritated.

Full work mode was something he was fond of, endeared to one might dare to say, but this was taking things too far. During a full drachman invasion, a run-in with a bear during patrol, even when it was only the fight for the best seats in the mess, he was completely fine with it. But she had dark rings under her eyes by now, her movements had turned sluggish.

He knew she wanted to finish this stuff, needed to if she did not want to have more headache in a few days, Central goons then surely calling and trampling on her nerves. Did not want to wait for the stacks to grow bigger, for Drachma to invade again. Did not want to wait for being compared to Colonel Mustang of Central at any cost.

Yet, it made his heart beat a little bit faster that she still found the time to think about their wellbeing.

Spoke with the force she was lacking at the moment, stepping up to her desk and taking her hands in his.

“No, you need to eat Olivier!”

Buccaneer gasped quietly, though the bigger of the two, always the one who’d rather smooth-talk her into ideas and taking care of herself. Always surprised when Miles took charge.

The blonde looked at him, eyebrows knitted together over her nose, but then sighing.

“Well, if you insist.”

Ignored Buccaneers shout of “Fuck yes!” and sprint to the table, let go of her hands softly and watched as she stood up slowly. Could see it in the way she held herself, the way bones popped, and how she pressed her lips into a thin line, that she’d not stood up in several hours. Probably hadn’t moved from the slouched position over her desk since Buccaneer entered the room.

How she tried to hide a wince when straightening her back, failing miserably.

Buccaneer was on his feet again quickly, by her side in an instant and equally fast he rounded the desk and stood at her other.

Could hear the worry in the big man’s voice, but also the strictness he so seldom showed.

“What did the doc say during the check-up and bandage change?”

Knowing full well that she hadn’t been there, had forgone it in favour of paperwork.

“There wasn’t time to go. And let go of me, I can stand by myself!”

Freed her arms from their grasps, straightening and doing a better job at hiding her pain, walking over to the table their food was on. Miles exchanging a look with Buccaneer at that, her tone lacking the usual anger that came with such a statement. A plan communicated silently, only with eyes and wiggled eyebrows.

Watched as she sat down slowly, lifting the lid off of her food and digging in, not raucously like usual, but slowly and with care. Looked at them after a minute, gaze half-lidded, mouth crooked.

“Why are you standing there like a pair of trees? Your food’s growing cold.”

Sat down with her, plans made, the only thing missing now to turn it to reality. Ate quietly, saw the content face she made when she dug into the chocolate pudding he managed to grab, quietly thankful that he didn’t have to break a nose for it, though he came close.

Were finished before her, waiting for the right moment to act. When she stood up, trying to return to her desk with a self-destructive sense for duty, Buccaneer intercepted her, while he opened the door.

Buccaneer had perfected the carrying-technique used after she wiggled out of vaccinations three times in a row, on doctors’ orders.

It did not stop her from calling them names, though.

* * *

 

She tried to stay mad at them, but found she couldn’t.

Though in all honesty, it was hard to feel anything besides the comfort of the warm water she was sitting in currently. Was still cross with the two for their stunt, though she could not say that she wasn’t glad to get away from the stacks of paper. But when she weighed it against the prodding she had to endure by the doc’s hands…

Yet, Buccaneer had talked Patricia into sitting her down in one of the medical-tubs, with unlimited warm water to boot, the latter the rarest treat in all of the Fort.

She felt human again if she was honest, most of her body stopped hurting and they’d fed her well too. Supplied her with coffee and tea, Miles even having risked his live for a cup of chocolate pudding…

Would not stay mad at them for forcing her to visit the doc, she decided. And Patricia had tried to be gentle and really, it wasn’t their fault that one of those damned Drachmans gifted one of her ribs with its very own bullet. And the man who was at fault had paid instantly anyways.

But she sighed still, thinking about the stacks of paperwork on her desk.

Usually had a very strict routine concerning this kind of work, but the going-ons of the last two weeks had been too much, kept her from abhorring her own rules and put a strain not only on her work, but on her private-time also. She’d not even managed to sleep in the same bed as Miles and Buccaneer the last few nights, all of them caught up in their own work.

Missed it, when they would have time for themselves, walls falling and masks dissolving. They’d talk, joke, spar or jumble up the covers of her cot, often just by sleeping on top of them as something that could best be described as a pile.

Missed the warmth of their arms around her, the small affectionate gestures exchanged between Miles and Buccaneer, seeming second nature to them, but always putting a smile on her face. Wanted to crawl into bed, eat a breakfast that would not want to make her throw up and find her desk spotless afterwards.

Felt like she’d already forgotten how it looked underneath all the shit on top of it.

Wondered if Roy Mustang sometimes thought such things, scoffing at herself and standing up.

If she started to emphasize with Mustang, she was really suffering from sleep-depravation.

Rubbed herself dry with a towel carefully, put on underwear and pants and even called out for the doc that she was ready to be bandaged-up again. Enduring cold fingers on warm skin and the sting of a wound still smarting, putting on thermos-shirt and uniform-jacket then, leaving the infirmary.

Walked through the quiet corridors, almost empty with it being well past midnight by now. The days without fighting they’d gotten hadn’t gone unused, she thought to herself. Walkways and walls spotless, open doors she came by leading into tidy, clean rooms. Felt pride swell in her chest for the men she commanded.

Love for the two men she knew to be responsible for keeping them in line when she couldn’t.

And walking into her bureau, her eyes were drawn to the top of her desk in all its grey-metallic beauty.

And two very exhausted men.

“You love me as if I deserve you!”

Felt laughter seep into her disbelieve, the corners of her mouth curling upwards of their own accord.

Miles hung more than sat at his own desk, Buccaneer was falling asleep upright. It was the former that ground out an answer, looking like he’d keel over any second.

“And you love us enough to save our life’s countless times, take swords and bullets for us. A little paperwork is nothing against that.”

Laughed at that, masking with it the blush that graced her cheeks.

Acted, now that she was the one in an ok physical state, the one that had a moment of relaxation from unmanageable stacks of paper upon paper.

“Sobs, both of you! You need to lie down!”

Went to nudge Buccaneer awake, who let himself be pulled upright and with her by grabbing his wrist. Looked at the big guy, Miles busy with trying to stand up.

“How did you sign the stuff?”

Buccaneer grinning in the way that showed all of his teeth, Miles snickering behind her, finally out of the chair.

“Forged it of course, though if anybody asks: you signed them!”

The big guy winking at that, eliciting a snort from her. Went to grab onto Miles too, pulling them towards the door to her private quarters, ready to go to sleep, preferably with them by her side.

Spared one last glance at her desk, all shiny and grey, before closing the door behind her, just in time to watch the two sleepy men fight with their uniforms. Almost loosing.

Got ready to sleep herself, found her thermos-pyjamas and put them on. Was in bed before either of them and not a minute after almost suffocated under the two, trying to get comfortable.

Settling soon, Buccaneer turning off the forgotten light with a well-thrown sock hitting the switch, darkness engulfing them. Felt an arm sneak around her waist and a kiss pressed to her forehead. Feet tangling with hers and a tentative hand following the edge of her bandages, before settling just below them.

“Promise us to never let the paperwork accumulate like this again?”

Miles voice coming from behind her, most likely muffled by her own hair. Snorted out her answer.

“Need to talk to Central about that. They’re the ones flooding us with useless forms.”

Felt the cot shake with Buccaneers silent laughter, heard the rumble in his chest and the words that were their goodnight for today.

“It’s never too late to hope for Drachman invasion, isn’t it?”

He was right, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_
> 
> I reply to every comment, though it sometimes takes me a day, or two.
> 
> I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/)


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